Confessional || Samson & *~*~*
suga-pierce:
His expression had softened considerably from the moment he laid eyes on the other patient’s picture, not vivid enough to give away his feelings but a definite contrast to his usual, void-of-emotion look. Yet, despite the contentment he felt, he was still hardly motivated and on top of that, exhausted. Turning on his heel, he walked back to his seat. Leaned back into the chair, as if he needed the support, and closed his eyes so he could contemplate the images rapidly scrolling through his own head. Only allowing his eyelids to flutter open again so as to gaze back at the therapist once the question had been posed. “I’m pretty sure there’s a saying that goes like; there will always be someone better than you?” He responded calmly, uncertainty clearly present in his tone despite the involuntary, confident raise of his brow.
Samson had quickly brought his notepad up to mark down all necessary information, to which would later be posed and arranged. Of course, to save his memory, and the foul disappointment of embarrassment, he’d made a mental note of the name, as well as the Therapist. He was otherwise caught unawares in light of the other patient, too caught up in request, to pay mind to action. By the time he had turned to flush his mind of all distractions, the other seemed already intent to rest, rather than continue. He’d sat adjacent to him, and flicked through the file once more, to hide his notes on rooming arrangements. “That may be a saying elsewhere, but in mental Asylums, you’d be surprised what sort of hierarchy we have to keep, to make sure you’re not being little shits.”
